


More than a Priestly Father

by A_Heimby



Category: Father Brown (2013)
Genre: Family, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 00:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12716022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Heimby/pseuds/A_Heimby
Summary: Sid comes home from his travels to find his caravan half burned to the ground and all of his stuff missing, but there's a medallion left on the bed, letting him know who he has to see first. (Spoilers up to Series 5)





	More than a Priestly Father

He saw it long before he arrived. At first he thought it was a trick of the eye, his caravan in the distance a harsh black, but as he got closer he could see a chunk of the roof missing by the door. Now he stood in front of his caravan, what he saw as his home, unable to take in and process the ruins of it.

Close up he could see that not only was part of the roof gone but almost the entire side curved wall as well, his home open to the elements. He could still smell the smoke off of it so he hoped it hadn’t been to long since it happened, that what little he owned wasn’t gone to the elements, but as he carefully stepped through the now pointless door he found there was nothing left to expose. The caravan was all but empty.

He took a moment to be overwhelmed but quickly pulled himself back together. He had lived too long in poverty, without house or home, and knew if he didn’t want to sleep out in the cold fall night he’d have to act fast, figure something out. Before he could waste any time on that thought though he noticed a glint on the bed, the only part of the caravan that seemed untouched by the fire.

As he approached he saw it was a small medallion. A small smile fought its way to his face as he recognized it at once, St. Christopher, patron saint of travelers and drivers. He’d been given one by Father Brown years ago but had lost it on his travels, ironically enough. There was only one man who would have left this one there for him to find. Smiling wider, he put the medallion around his neck and left, headed for the presbytery.

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He wasn’t surprised to find the door unlocked, nor to find his presence unnoticed by the Father as he sat at the table frowning down at a letter in his hands. He was about to try and startle Father Brown but as he snuck up behind him he recognized the letter he was holding. Sid had only sent out two letters after leaving that day to travel, one to Lady Felicia and one to Father Brown. To his lady he told her he may not be around if she found her way back to England and that he understood she’d have to hire someone else. To the Father, he’d all but asked to be left alone. At the time he had been emotional, missing his closest friend, a man he looked to as more than just a priestly Father. He had convinced himself that a clean break would hurt less for them both, but as he observed the Father now unnoticed he realised he was wrong on both counts.

Just as he decided to try and sneak out before he was noticed and try coming in again, making his presence known, the Father stiffened and asked, “Who’s there?”

Clearing his throat a tad awkwardly, Sid breathed out, “Father Brown.”

Instantly the Father was turning in his seat, a painfully hopeful look on his face. With a huge smile, he exclaimed, “Sidney! You’re home!” He was standing before Sid could respond and enveloping him in a great bear hug. He didn’t hesitate to hug the older man back just as tightly. After a little while the Father finally pulled back as he kept his hands on Sid’s shoulder’s, his face growing more serious as he more stated then asked, “You’ve been to see your caravan then.”

Smile shrinking, Sid confirmed, “Yes, I have.”

Patting his arm, Father Brown told him, “Mrs. McCarthy and I took the liberty of moving what could be salvaged here for safe keeping. Luckily it seems most of your possessions were unharmed or at least not completely destroyed.”

Sid found himself letting out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding in at those words. A larger smile taking over his face, he let out a heartfelt, “Thank you, Father.”

Without further delay, he found himself being shepherded through the small house and into the small sitting room he had spent many nights just sitting in while he and the father listened to the radio or simply talked for hours on end. He found himself surprised by how much he had missed this room, those nights, while he had been traveling, only made worse by remembering the year he tried so hard forget ever happened.  

In piles around the room were his possessions in various degrees of damage. His eyes sought out one thing first though, his small lock box where he kept the things most important to him. He spotted it quickly on the table next to the Father’s chair. It looked a little sooty but otherwise untouched. With a few quick steps he had it in his hands and was pulling the key from his pocket. With slightly trembling hands he opened it and looked inside with bated breath. Slowly he started to pull things from it one at a time.

There was the only picture he had of his mother, just after he was born while she held him snugly and smiled proudly at the camera. She died a few years later from a sickness that swept through the town. After that he had bounced between homes and orphanages but by nine he had taken to the streets, finding it a better life than living with the cruelty that seemed specific to orphans. He had never known his father, never even heard his name. His Mother had refused to talk about him the one time he had asked when he was five, days before she died.

Next he pulled out a small bundle of letters. After Suzy had left for London she had promised to keep in touch, and she had, at first. Now he just got a letter on Christmas, though he wasn’t sure if one had been sent the year before. He had refused any mail not pertaining to his legal battle while he was in prison. He made a mental note to ask the Father later if he knew, figuring it might have been diverted to him if Suzy found it returning in the mail.

There was also a pair of simple cufflinks Mrs. McCarthy had given him for his twenty-first birthday. She had claimed that they brought out his soulful blue eyes, though he hardly saw how that was possible. She insisted though and others had since agreed, so he figured he couldn’t argue.

Last, but far from least, he pulled out another picture. It was of him and the Father from what felt like a different life. He had originally packed it to go with him on his travels but had changed his mind last minute, locking it in the money box for safe keeping. He was happy now he had thought to do it or it might have been destroyed.

As he looked at the picture the Father walked up behind him, saying, “Oh, well that’s good to know. I had been a little worried it had been destroyed in the fire.” More to himself than to Sid, he added, “It would have been a shame to lose. It is my favorite picture of you.”

Sid felt an odd sense of sadness wash over him as he softly agreed, “Yeah, mine too.” He took another moment to look down at it before gently placing it back in the box, followed by the other things. He was just about to close it when a hand snaked in front of him and dropped something else in on top of the papers. A gold watch he recognized instantly. He found his throat tightening as he choked out, “Father, where did you get this?” He picked up the watch with care as he flipped it and ran his thumb along the engraving, remembering the day the Father had given it to him. They had just finished eating the dinner Mrs. McCarthy had made for his twenty-first birthday when the Father had placed a small box in front of him. With nothing but a smile the older man had encouraged him to open it. He remembered fighting back tears as he read the engraving for the first time, as he slipped it on his wrist. He had worn the thing without fail after that day, up until the day he went to prison that is. He still regretted pawning it to buy that gun.

He was pulled from his reverie as the Father answered, “After a quick chat with the fellow you sold it to he was willing to return it. Said it was hard to sell things with personalized engravings anyway. Wouldn’t even take anything for it either, though Mrs. McCarthy still dropped off some strawberry scones as a thank you.”

Unable to stop a small laugh from escaping, because only the Father could manage to get a business man to return something that he had rightfully bought, purely with sentiment, he slipped the watch around his wrist. He felt whole again with it in place. Just like the first time he put it on, he felt himself holding back tears. Looking at the Father he gave a heartfelt, “Thank you.” Sniffling slightly, he tried to distract himself as he pulled a small silver pocket watch out of his jacket. Holding it out in his palm, he said, “You’ll probably want this back then.”

The Father only smiled though as he softly curled his hands around Sid’s outstretched one, closing his fingers around the watch. In that warm and gently voice only the Father could manage, he told him, “I’d much rather you have it. My father gave it to me when I left home and his father gave it to him when he left home. It’s been passed down from father to son for generations.” He made sure Sid was looking him in the eye before finishing, “You may not be my son by blood, Sidney, but in so many other ways you are. Since that first night I met you when you were twelve, hiding in the church from the cold, I knew you would be far more to me than just an acquaintance or friend. You are family.”

This time Sidney didn’t even try to fight the tears that sprang to his eyes. It was just him and the Father after all. No one he had to worry about seeing him like this. God knew the Father had seen him far worse off. He found himself pulling the shorter man into another hug, even tighter than before. In all but a whisper he declared, “I don’t think I could find a better family if I tried.”

When they finally pulled back he noticed tears in the Fathers eyes as well. With a watery smile he managed a scratchy, “Well then, I guess all that’s left now if finding somewhere else to live since my current home is missing half its roof.”

Without hesitation, Father Brown told him, “Well, you can stay here for as long as you need. I have a cot you can use for now, though we can always get you something better later.”

Smiling widely, Sid said, “That sounds great, Father.”

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An hour later found him and the Father sitting around the table as they drank tea and filled each other in on what they’d missed. Sid felt a certain heated anger in his stomach to hear Flambeau had showed up yet again, once more putting the Father in danger, though he had been more angered by the news that before he had even gotten out of prison the Father had almost been successfully framed for murder by that horrid woman.

He had just finished telling a story about his time in Paris when he heard the familiar and welcome call of Mrs. McCarthy. “Father, I’m back from my meeting.” She had started to ask something as she came into the room but stopped in her tracks as she took in the sight of Sid, words stuck in her throat. After a moment, she exclaimed, “Sidney, you’re home!” With that she crossed the room in a blink of an eye and was pulling him into a great big hug. He tried to pull away after a few moments but she held tight. She wasn’t going to let him go until she was good and ready.

Laughing, he said, “It’s good to see you too, Mrs. M.” She tried to look stern at the nickname but couldn’t seem to fight the smile from her face.

Instead she turned around and walked further into the kitchen, throwing over her shoulder, “This calls for a special meal I think.”

Smiling at her back, he agreed, “That sounds wonderful, Mrs. McCarthy.” He chose to ignore the Father’s light chuckles beside him.

Not long later, as he was outside enjoying the fresh air with the Father, he found himself being tackled from behind. As the light weight clung to his back, soft hands covering his eyes, he heard a light voice asking, “Guess who?”

Laughing, he asked, “What kind of way is that to greet a friend, Bunty?”

Also laughing, she answered, “A far superior way if you ask me.” With that she kissed him on the cheek before dropping from his back. Smiling widely, she pulled him down into a hug. With mischief in her voice, she added, “Now maybe the Father will stop sulking about with you home safe again.”

Slightly indignant sounding, the Father exclaimed, “I do not sulk, Bunty.”

Patting the Father on the back she said, “Sure you don’t, Father.”

Unable to keep the smile from his face, nor the conflicting guilt from his heart, Sid changed the subject, asking, “Are you staying for dinner? I have it on good authority Mrs. M is making some funny named dish she claims to be her new specialty.”

Linking her arm through his and one through the Fathers, she answered, “I would love to join my favorite people for a meal made by the wonderful Mrs. M.”

As they ate supper that evening it almost felt like things were back to normal, more like the old days, as he now referred to them in his mind. At least as back to normal as he could hope for. He still missed Lady Felecia but was assured she was due for a visit home in the following weeks.

As he laid in bed that night, for probably the first time in his life, he felt like he was truly home. He felt safe and secure in a way he had never thought possible, but most importantly he felt loved. He felt the unconditional love that he never knew he needed but would never give up for anything now that he had it. He felt what it was to have a family.


End file.
